Well, it was bound to happen sometime. They've finally put a new person in Izzy's spot (insert sad MM face here). It was bound to happen sooner or later - we've gotten a large hire of EMT-Bs since a class just let out.
Our company has a clearing process that new employees have to attend - 3 weeks, roughly, although the first week is purely paper and book work. That leaves the rest of the time for 5 (or 4, if they really need you bad) orientation rides and a clear ride (unless the supervisor is busy) and then the employee is considered "Cleared" - ready to operate as a normal employee.
My new partner shall be referred to as FNG.
Actually, I'm not being fair - he wants to learn. Sure, we had to go to the gas station again last night (wait? There's TWO diesel tanks to fill up?), but hey.
I'm not really much of a teacher - I'll make sure they know how to do basic stuff, like spiking a bag or attaching the heart monitor, and then as things come up in the field I instruct as I go. To me it seems to work better then me telling them fifty things at the beginning of the shift, and then expecting them to just recall everything I said.
So I'm showing FNG how to assemble a prefill syringe and of course, our first call is a cardiac arrest.
Bulldog and Stanky, working the other unit, beat us to the scene, and the fire department and they are working the patient as we walk in. I grab a tube and tell FNG to start compressions.
"Hol up, " says Bulldog. "You don't need it."
I get a good look at the patient. Dead Right There.
"Ok, you want me to call it in?"
Stanky, Bulldog's partner, is doing his last clear ride for his paramedic. "No, no, I got it." He calls it in to dispatch.
FNG has his eyes glued to the body on the floor.
He does not move. I poke him. He looks up at me, looks a little sick.
"Hey. Good Job."
"Put a notch in your stethoscope, buddy." Fire, Stanky and Bulldog are suppressing their giggles.
"You got a kill on your first call. Strong work. Put a notch in your stethoscope." I hand him my pocket knife.
He just stares at it. I walk out of the room, whistling a jaunty tune.
This morning, when I told him he was but a pawn in my master plan, he laughed, but when I didn't, he stopped.
I'm going to have FUN with this one.